


Everything Leaves a Trace

by WitlessWriter7



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Detective, Draco Malfoy - Freeform, Drarry, F/F, Harry Potter - Freeform, Kissing, M/M, Ministry of Magic Employee Hermione Granger, Pansmione - Freeform, Pansy Parkinson - Freeform, Private Eye, embezzling, hermione granger - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-07
Updated: 2018-07-07
Packaged: 2019-06-06 13:35:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15195881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WitlessWriter7/pseuds/WitlessWriter7
Summary: Based on the Tumblr prompt by Elly-dk: Hermione needs the help of Pansy's private eye services as she suspects a coworker at the ministry of embezzling, she never thought Pansy had changed that much.





	Everything Leaves a Trace

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Elly_dk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elly_dk/gifts).



The air is heavy with the intention of rain as Hermione makes her way down the brick paved streets. A cool breeze cuts through the oppressive humidity and gently lifts her curls, intertwining the strands together. The leaves rustle in sympathy. Her footsteps echo with determination and her sensible kitten-heeled boots meet the still dry bricks. She ignores the tree branches with their upturned leaves reaching for the imminent rain and wills the clouds to wait until she gets this over with to release their burden.

Spotting a discreet slate blue door set into a stone façade, she enters—her footsteps sure and her chin raised in defiance of her expectations. The bells hung on the door jangle, and alert the secretary to her arrival.

“Are you expected?” he asks, his grey eyes appraising her, taking in her sensible taupe A-line skirt and understated cream blouse, partially covered by a simple black robe. His lips sneer as if finding something in her lacking. Hermione brushes away intangible specks of dust from her skirt. As she opens her mouth to answer, a woman with an angled black bob opens the adjoining door. Her red lips subtly draw up in a self-satisfied smile when she sees her visitor.

“Come on in,” she says, disappearing back into the room. Hermione follows her and wonders how she moves so quickly in those spiky plum heels and sophisticated fitted black robes. Pansy turns around and sits behind her desk and leans back, her hands tented in front of her mouth, her intense black eyes assess Hermione. Hermione flushes and wonders if she caught her admiring her voluptuous curves that contrast so nicely with her sharp features and blunt-cut bangs that make her look like a flapper from the ‘20’s. A grumble of thunder outside emphasizes the silence inside the elegant office. Hermione wonders if silence is a tactic in the Slytherin handbook on how to discomfit others to gain the upperhand. Draco always seems to use it on Harry when he wants him to spill his secrets—namely where Harry is taking him on a surprise trip or what he got him for Christmas. She wonders if this was a good idea, trusting such a sensitive situation with a woman whom she’s had no contact since she offered up one of her best friends to Voldemort.

Hermione clears her throat, “So, you think you can help me with this?”

Pansy grins. The action displays her teeth and lends her a dangerous air. She leans forward, “I wouldn’t have asked you here if I wasn’t confident I could… lend a hand.” Her voice is soft and husky, rich with implication, meaning supplemented by a languid raising of her eyebrow. She oozed sensuality. Hermione isn’t used to finding herself intimidated, but something about Pansy unbalances her. Perhaps it’s the slow, sure way she moves. As if she had no need to hurry because she expected the universe to go at her pace. Movements flow into one another with deceptively casual ease. Her hands leisurely emphasize her words aided by the quill she uses as a prop—never still like slow moving lava. Every action she makes is calculated, but steeped in the guise of unhurried insouciance. The cunning plotter masquerading as the blasé sophisticate.

“I would bring this up to my boss, but I don’t have the evidence to back up my suspicions. Can you get it for me?” Hermione asked.

“Trust me… embezzling simpletons are never as clever as they like to think. Everything leaves a trace. Just leave it to me and you’ll be back to canoodling with your ginger boyfriend any day now.” Pansy smirked, twiddling the quill between her fingers.

“We-we’re not a couple… at one point I thought, but…” Hermione admits with downcast eyes. Pansy seems to grow smug(ger) at that answer. Probably rejoicing at her misfortune. Pansy undoubtedly has droves of boys who follow her around, vying for attention, Hermione thinks uncharitably.

“Well. Seems that embezzlers aren’t the only simpletons.” Pansy runs the feathery end of the quill over her plump lips, as she considers that bit of juicy information. Hermione tries to ignore her unwanted thoughts of what she’d like to do to those lips, while attempting to figure out if that barb was aimed at her or Ron. Pansy notices the path of Hermione’s gaze and decides to play with her. She traces the feather lower pretending that she’s unconscious of what she’s doing, noting that Hermione’s eyes follow it. Interesting. Perhaps the Golden Girl wasn’t as straight as she thought. This could be fun. She licks her lips, anticipating the thrill of the game, and continues, “Just allow me access to the wards in your office and I’ll have it for you Monday after some sleuthing this weekend.”

Hermione hesitates. She could get in a lot of trouble if they find out that she let Pansy in without supervision, “Maybe, I should come with you,” she compromises.

“Don’t trust me?” Pansy’s red lips curl, “Or do you just want an excuse to spend time with me?”

Hermione feels her face heat up, as the blood rushes to it. Tricky Slytherins, she thinks. They never leave you with a good answer. “We’ll meet Friday after everyone’s left the office. It’ll be easier if I let you in, and no one will think it’s unusual if I stay late anyway. I can show you where we keep everything.”

“It’s a date,” Pansy rises, and guides Hermione out with a gentle pressure on her lower back. Hermione is left tingling after Pansy removes her hand—as if the caress had left a trace of Pansy behind.

 

~~~~~~~~~{{@}}~~~~~~~~

Apprehensive of her planned rendezvous with Pansy, Hermione fidgets with her files and endeavors to look busy as her co-workers file out one by one. She’s too jittery to actually concentrate on real work. It doesn’t take too long, considering most are anxious to leave work for the weekend. She imagines she feels a nervous energy about the office all day, but she could just be projecting her own restlessness on them. When the last one leaves, she waits a few minutes, then sends her Patronus to Pansy with the simple message, “It’s time.”

She meets her at the door, and lets her in, “Come on,” she whispers, even though there’s no one around to hear. The secrecy of their mission makes hushed voices seem appropriate. She takes in Pansy’s simple black dress with lace sleeves.

“What? Did you expect me to be dressed in skintight spandex for this occasion?” Pansy softly laughed. Hermione considered the question. It would suit Pansy’s flair for drama. And she would look darkly tempting…

“How do you know about spandex, anyway?” Hermione asked.

“Oh, Draco’s introduced me to a lot of Muggle films. We have movie night at their place. I enjoy the historical dramas the most. The costuming is so amazing! But when it’s Potter’s turn to choose he normally goes for action, so I’ve seen a heist movie or two. Cate Blanchett ooh la la!” Pansy pantomimes fanning herself.

Hermione was stunned into silence. She can’t picture Harry and Pansy hanging out watching Muggle movies. Although, it is on his and Draco’s advice that she contacted Pansy. She doesn’t know what she expected Pansy to be like, but this isn’t it. She also wonders if Pansy is just appreciating the beauty that is Cate Blanchett, or if she is attracted to women too.

They creep along the dark hallways until they find the Room of Records. Hermione stands guard outside, while Pansy goes searching for what they came for. Hermione is contemplating how she’s going to approach the head of her department with their evidence, when she notices a dim beam of light sweeping in and out of sight with the swing of an arm. She dives in the room, mutters, “Nox,” and drags Pansy behind some shelves.

“What are you doing?” Pansy hisses.

“Someone’s out there. What if he knows I’m on to him?” Her brain starts running through all the potential outcomes in a panic.

Pansy gently places her hand on Hermione’s arm, “Hush. It’s probably just maintenance. Besides, you work here. You can just say you needed a file.”

“How do I explain you being here?”

“You can just say that we were fulfilling an office sex fantasy,” Pansy suggests, chuckling at Hermione’s spluttering. They quiet as the light comes closer. Hermione is very aware of the hard press of a warm body at her side as they sit together in the quiet room filled with lurid evidence, their ragged breathing amplified by the lack of other sounds and fear. What would they do if someone comes in? Hermione considers Pansy’s suggestion. It wasn’t believable. Pansy’s hair is too impeccable, and their clothes aren’t mussed. She wonders what Pansy would look like with her hair rumpled by passion and her lipstick smeared by kisses. Drawn by her thoughts she leans closer. She reaches out a trembling, hesitant hand, her lips parted, and runs her fingers through silky locks so different from her own. Pansy’s black eyes sparkle in the darkness, reflecting what little light there is. She lets Hermione lead them into unknown territory, and stays still, lest she spook her. Hermione hesitates, and then straddles Pansy, drawing her face closer by the back of her head. The warm pressure of her body against hers stokes her desire to be closer. She looks for permission in Pansy’s expression. Her lips were parted and her head tilted up towards her. She nods slightly, giving permission. If it feels this good already, what would it feel like to be wrapped together tighter?

She lowers her lips to Pansy’s eliminating the distance between them. They lightly brush together with unexpected tenderness. Hermione wraps her fingers in Pansy’s hair, as Pansy brings her arms up to reciprocate. This time there’s less gentleness, and more confidence in the intention. Pansy runs her arms down Hermione’s back and caress her full bottom. The softness of her dress mixes with her supple flesh to create an intoxicating potion.Their kisses get more passionate and they keep pulling each other closer, writhing against the other, as if trying to meld into one being. Finally, they pull apart and erupt into breathless laughter.

“I wasn’t expecting that,” said Hermione.

“I was hoping,” admitted Pansy, in an uncharacteristically vulnerable confession. Hermione surveys the outcome of their embrace. Her hair is mussed, but her lipstick is still perfectly in place. She must have spelled it on. She looks beautiful, her confession humanizes her in Hermione’s eyes.

She reaches for Pansy’s hand and kisses it, her actions speaking louder than the words she can’t find. They hug, and drink in the presence of each other.

“Oh, I found what we needed. Like I said, it was simple when you know where to look,” Pansy grins at Hermione.

“That’s great. It infuriates me that he was taking money away from our department. That means that less creatures get the help they need! But you know what else infuriates me?” Hermione asked looking at Pansy shyly, “That your lipstick is still perfect!”

Pansy laughed and suggested coyly, “Then, why don’t we try to mess it up?”


End file.
